


Criminal Damage

by cypress_tree



Series: Robot!John 'Verse [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Crime Scenes, M/M, POV Outsider, Unrequited, robot!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree/pseuds/cypress_tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I thought you said there was only one body?” asks Sherlock.  His gaze is fixed on the lifelike service bot that lies an arm’s length away.  Its eyes are dim, its chest caved in.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Criminal Damage

**Author's Note:**

> the fics in this series _can_ be read as stand-alones, but you should probably go into it knowing that John is a robot.

Sherlock shows up to the crime scene with John in tow. Lestrade knew this would happen, but his heart still sinks to see them together. He catches Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock nods, curtly, and Lestrade motions towards the staircase.

“This way,” he says.

 

 ---

 

There is a woman lying on the floor of the master bedroom. Her limbs fold at awkward angles. Her throat is slit, eyes unseeing, makeup smudged. She is dressed in a black skirt, white blouse, and black heels.

The room is warm and brightly lit. There is a fly circling the ceiling.

  

 ---

 

“I thought you said there was only one body?” asks Sherlock. His gaze is fixed on the lifelike service bot that lies an arm’s length away. Its eyes are dim, its chest caved in.

Lestrade frowns. “One body plus a synthetic.”

“So two bodies, then. Synthetics have bodies, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but they’re not alive, Sherlock.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply.

  

 ---

 

Lestrade watches as Sherlock studies the victim. He tugs at the skin of her throat. He runs his knuckles over the collar of her blouse.

  
“Pollen,” he says, and sniffs it. He wrinkles his nose. “She just got back from the tropics. I’ll need to examine her suitcase.”

Lestrade nods.

Sherlock kneels by the victim’s feet. “Interesting,” he murmurs. “John?”

John crouches down next to him, and they confer in low voices. Twice, Sherlock reaches down to point, and his arm brushes against John’s as if by accident. John stays inhumanly still. He stares down at the victim’s body as he answers Sherlock’s request for computations. Sherlock looks up at Lestrade.

“I need quiet,” he says.

Lestrade hadn’t been making any noise, but he turns away.

“Do you have the victim’s phone?” Sherlock adds.

“Yeah, we took it—”

“Get it for me.”

Lestrade walks out of the bedroom.

 

\---

 

There are people everywhere, taking pictures, collecting personal items. Lestrade goes down to the kitchen. The phone is in a box on the counter, bagged and numbered. Lestrade turns around, and jumps.

John is standing in front of him.

“Sherlock ordered me to get it from you,” John says. He holds out his hand.

Lestrade places the phone in John’s outstretched palm. He can hear a gentle hum coming from inside John’s chest. The phone vibrates with energy under his fingertips.

Lestrade shivers. John walks away.

 

 ---

 

The forensics team has questions. A paramedic wants to verify some information. Lestrade moves from the kitchen, to the study, to the living room, then hears Sherlock call his name.

He goes back upstairs, where Sherlock is standing over the body—John a step behind him.

“It was the father,” Sherlock says. He starts to rattle off facts. Something about the pollen, a missed call, and the scuff on the side of her shoe. Lestrade nods as though he is listening, but Sherlock keeps glancing at John, and Lestrade finds it distracting.

When Sherlock is done, John says—

“That _is_ the most logical conclusion.”

Sherlock flushes pink. Lestrade feels sick.

“Well, thanks,” Lestrade says. “I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork, but if you want to do that tomorrow—”

Sherlock crouches down next to the damaged synthetic. He pulls at a wire loose on its arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this one?” he demands.

Lestrade shrugs. “I needed you for the murder, not for criminal damage.”

Sherlock looks pained. Lestrade can see John out of the corner of his eye.

 

 ---

 

Donovan’s voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, but did you see her diary?” she asks. “It’s sick. She really thought it was some kind of—”

Anderson scoffs. “Forbidden romance?”

“She thought it had feelings. Like it actually _wanted_ to be with her.”

“Clearly there were some undiagnosed _issues_ there.”

Sherlock takes two angry strides towards the staircase, but Lestrade stops him before he can get any further. He pulls Sherlock into the guest bedroom and shuts the door before John can follow. Sherlock starts speaking immediately.

“Studies have proven that the advancement of artificial intelligence is such that synthetics are now capable of making moral decisions.”

John knocks on the door. Lestrade purses his lips.

“They understand right from wrong. They can make logical choices in an infinite variety of situations.”

John knocks again.

“She wasn’t delusional, she was just interpreting the evidence. Any sane person would have come to the same—”

“Sherlock, he’s not real!”

There is a beat of silence.

John knocks.

  

 ---

 

Nearly everyone has left when the clean-up crew arrives. They carry brushes, mops, and chemicals. They wear respirators and jumpsuits that smell like bleach.

They shove the broken synthetic to the side. When its fingertip snags on a splinter, it does not bleed.

 

 ---

 

Outside, Sherlock puts a hand on John’s back to lead him into the cab. He lingers longer than he should.

Donovan comes up behind Lestrade, watching as the cab pulls away.

“He’ll be arrested one day,” she says. “For indecency.”

Lestrade shakes his head. He doesn’t want to believe it.

 

 ---


End file.
